Page 113 of Falling in Reverse

This woman has more balls than I know men.

“There are knives at the table,” I forewarn him, not bothering to hide my annoyance at her being in this house.

I got shot by a female while my dick was getting hard. I have every fucking right to be pissed.

I can feel Emilio’s heavy glower in my direction for my comment, but I don’t give a shit. He’s that solemn, dangerous prick who makes himself appear like he was born from entitlement when he was just some street urchin who dealt cocaine and made himself into something.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but I wish he’d lose the persona because he’s worse when provoked and he’s not that nice of a guy.

I mean, shit, he put a fucking strapped bomb on her boyfriend’s ankle for fuck’s sake and he’s supposed to gain her love that way?

Emilio has obviously lost his touch with loving somebody, because he’s definitely not going to gain the affection of this heartless bitch.

“I’m expecting you to be on your best behavior,” Emilio vouches to me instead of her. “She’s here to spend some time with us and to be officially introduced to the family.”

My face immediately twists. “My brother? Is there another one I don’t know about?”

“You should look into your hearing, son. It’s getting worse.”

I grind my teeth. Ramsey doesn’t give a flying shit about family and meeting people. He’s a fucking psycho for a hard-on for pain and torture. No longer does he give a shit about our mother, already emotionless when it comes to anyone else but himself. I’m surprised Ramsey hasn’t killed Emilio yet and taken his place as dickhead of the year.

“Ah, that’s right. You’re trying to get your daughter to actually like you.” I navigate my focus to her, dripping sex and trouble. “Good luck.”

“Go to your room, Torin.” He waves a dismissive hand at me like a child that he can’t deal with tonight except it’s all the time. “I don’t have time for your fuckin’ attitude, and you’re being a horrible host.”

Yeah, I don’t give a fuck.

Bay and my past is some tortured, push-and-pull shit, and I’m so fucking tired of dealing and still wanting the alluring creature that’s currently still staring at me.

So much so that I could unload a clip in some fucker’s chest just to relieve the stress she rains down on me.

From her sassy-ass little attitude to her violent little fits to those whimsical comebacks that make me want to choke her out.

I’m about done running into this broad just for her to land at my feet. It’s karma rearing her ugly head at me. And Bay is like a damn STD, you enjoyed the ride, but the aftermath blows balls.

Now, she’s a threat.

Go fucking figure. She left one piece of shit for a more powerful one in Levi Wallace.

It was a smart move.

However, this one is not.

When the words Bay Astor came out of Emilio’s mouth last week, I about shit myself. And, little does he know, that we’ve had run-ins before.

“Torin will escort you to the dining room,” Emilio advises flatly. “I’m going to make sure everything is all set.”

Or that’s what I think he says.

My eyes follow him out and my jaw ticks. Ever since he came home, he believes The Landings are his again.

It’s not.

It’s mine.

It’s Cairo’s, Reeve’s, and mine, because he can’t sit still for long enough to run it. He’s been running around the country trying to enlist men to his cause—The Void. Some dumbass group he and Ramsey are trying to scrounge up and expand for when they “takeover” South Shore.

Emilio needs power because, without it, his money is just going to sit there and do shit. Cairo’s dad refuses to hand him over shit and technically, the Forsaken Crew isn’t his. It’d also make sense that he’d get rid of Penn Northcott for his own selfish reasons.

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